Between Twilight and Dawn
by Miss Aranel
Summary: Elured, Elurin, and their family BEFORE the final attack on Doriath. Updated! Chap. 4: Galathil contemplates his grandsons, and Elurin tells a fast-paced, child-style story of Huan, Celegorm, and poor Grandmama Luthien.
1. Chapter One

**Between Twilight and Dawn**

_The night will never stay,/The night will still go by,/Though with a million stars/You pin it to the sky;/Though you bind it with the blowing wind/And buckle it with the moon,/The night will slip away/Like sorrow or a tune. _ "The Night Will Never Stay", by Eleanor Farjeon

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. 

**Sindarin: **

_Nin car_ = My house__

_Aran_ = King

_Ada_ = Daddy

_Nana_ = Mommy/Mummy

_Hîr nin_ = My lord.

_Mell_ = Dear (Adj., so "nin mell" would be "my dear/my dear one")

_Gell_ = Joy

Author's Notes follow the chapter. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter One**

It was a large room. Large, with double doors of intricately carved oak wood that opened onto a little receiving and play area. He stood right inside the doors, his feet on the polished rock of the floor, his grey eyes glancing about. He had not had a chance to take a good look at this room before, only a quick glance about to be sure that it had not been touched by the recent attacks within Menegroth. He could easily see the details of the chamber, for it was lit by high white lamps on the walls, though Anor's last rays still clung to the sky outside at this hour. 

Two small grey cloaks hung by the entrance on low hooks, embroidered with traceries of silver and blue vines and leaves about the borders and cuffs. At the floor beneath were two pairs of soft, grey leather boots, also small, with work to match the cloaks about the lace wraps. How ever did they get such footwear onto the feet of children? It would take a good deal of tugging and pulling, indeed. He had never attempted such a thing himself, preferring much rather to shove small feet into low shoes. 

His eyes drifted to the shelves carved into the living stone, gazing over the toys and playthings and games all housed there. They had not been touched for quite some time. He stepped over, taking a thin wooden box from the shelf and lifting the lid to peek inside. A puzzle, of a rainbow over a herd of deer, he guessed, having put this one together several times himself. He replaced the box and reached for another, this time finding a chess set with figures carved as innocent animals, the board checked in soft polished oak and darker cherry. There were many things he recognized and remembered, long stored here without use. His gaze strayed to the assortment of things that littered the floor. He smiled briefly at the numerous wooden blocks painted in bright colors, some stacked into towers or forming fences around carved ponies with dark, inky eyes in their soft, grainy faces. 

On top of a small stool lay a copy book, the pages held together with a much threaded blue ribbon, the corners rather dirty and dog-eared. On the cover was a hand drawn picture of a tree and what might be a horse, along with the owner's name. He flipped it open, to a random page. 

_Nin car. _

The letters were large and unshaped, obviously copied from an adult's example, and accompanied by a sketchy drawing of a tall house, a fall of water at its side. 

He turned the pages slowly, smiling at each scrawled word and the picture coupled with it. Here was a storm cloud pouring rain, a loaf of bread, a swan….and then he reached the most recently touched page, towards the end. 

_Aran. _

Here was a picture of a person, the legs and arms elongated in the style of the very young. The figure was scribbled over in dark blue, and gifted with a large wobbly smile. 

Written underneath the drawing, as though added later, in very large letters: 

_Nin __Ada__!_

He closed the book carefully, so as not to crumple the pages, replacing it in its spot. The play area led into the bed chamber, where the soles of his boots fell with soft taps on polished tile, a green and white pattern of interlaced diamonds and squares. The stone walls were painted white, and small, pale stars dotted a ceiling the color of thick pines. The two small beds were made up with spreads embroidered with small green leaves in a quilted pattern, lacing and circling over the white cloth. When he lifted the pillows, there were folded nightshirts of soft fabric underneath, and if he peered over the sides of the beds, there were little slippers, one pair blue, and a yellow one alone by itself. Whatever had happened to its mate? 

Shaking the wondering out of his head, he turned to look at the fireplace on one side of the room with its heavily barred grate. A large slab of swirling white stone served as the hearth, and there was a soft rug laid down nearby. The fire itself had gone out some time ago, leaving only a charred log. On the other side of the chamber was the doorway to the bathing room, where there was a tub with inlays of green vines, and a low counter with pitchers and wash basins. He was surprised to see water still in the bath, cold now, as was the water in the pitchers. A pile of ribbons and hair clasps was next to one basin, on top of a folded towel. The boys had such long hair. Dark strands of it were on the combs, on the counter, on the floor. 

He shook his head at the hairs on the tiled floor, deciding that small fingers must have pulled them from combs and dropped them there.  His gaze drifted to a large puddle of water in a far corner with an overturned rinse pitcher. How had that ended up there? A sick feeling sprouted in his stomach when he noticed a splattering of blood near the pitcher, blending into the water on the floor. Something like that certainly did not belong here. 

He turned, hastily leaving the bathing room, then taking long strides through the bed chamber. He hurried to the double doors, hands already out to push them open, when his elbow jarred something from its place on one of the shelves. It met the hard floor with a crash, and he started slightly at the noise in all this silence. 

When he looked, there was an intricate metal box on the floor where the tile of the playroom met that of the bed chamber, its hinged lid slightly ajar. For a moment his concerns left him, briefly forgotten. As he bent to pick it up and put it away, a few stretched, metallic notes came from it, as though from a plucked harp. The music box. He fished out the key on its long yellow ribbon, contemplating whether or not he wanted to give it a few turns. He knew the music would come out as a slow tune that had been coupled with sweet words at one time, words that yet lingered in his own mind. It might be good to hear the notes again. And yet…and yet he was not so sure if he wanted to listen to the lullabies of the departed. 

 "Ada!"

"Ada! Ada! Ada!" 

Dior nearly dropped his grandmother's box again as two small bodies came into swift contact with his legs, his thoughts interrupted. He smiled at the two seven year olds standing near him, both wrapped in large, white towels. Bath water dripped down their noses and legs, forming little puddles at their feet. He caught Elurín dabbling in the water with his toes, and Eluréd's dark hair was still filmy with soap. Had they been outside their room like that? They must have been. "Why are you not in your bath?" he asked, confused, and then remembered the blood on the floor, "What happened in there? Are you all right?"

"Are you going to read to us, Ada?" Eluréd piped up, wrapping his towel closer about himself and bouncing on his toes. Ada hadn't read to them for such a long, long time. There had only been rushed kisses goodnight when the nursemaid led them down the hall to Ada's study, and most times he had not even been there. Maybe things were going to change though. 

"Oh, yes, Ada!" Elurín exclaimed, his attention quickly drawn from the puddle at his feet. He gripped the loose folds of his father's robe with two small hands, staring up into Ada's face, "I want the dog story!" 

"Careful, you are losing your towel," Dior tugged the fluffy cloth around his son's shoulders, worried that the child might chill, "What happened in the bathing room?" He glanced about, suddenly realizing that the boys' nursemaid had not come into the room with them. "Where is Glassell? And where were you?" 

"She had to get more water, since Rín made her spill some," Eluréd offered, wishing that his towel hadn't gotten so damp. Maybe he could grab the coverlet off the bed and wrap up in that. It would be much warmer. 

"That's how I got cut, Ada! See?" Elurín announced, pointing urgently at a healing line of red on his forehead. He moved to feel it, to see if it had scabbed over yet, and then dropped his hand, "The healer said not to touch, or it would bleed again. That would be bad, Ada." 

"Yes, it would," Dior nodded, relieved that everything seemed to be all right. Glassell must have darted off to find someone to look at the cut, he decided, though he wondered why she hadn't at least hurried the children into robes. That was the way he had expected to find them: robed, slippered, and ready for bed. He sighed at the soap still in Eluréd's hair, and then prodded the twins into the bathing room. "That soap needs to come out of your hair, little boy," Dior signaled for Eluréd to kneel next to the tub, picking up an untouched pitcher from the counter. 

"It is out," Eluréd pulled his towel closer still, eyeing the rinse pitcher with contempt. When he was all grown up, he wouldn't have a hair night. No mucky soaps and no rotten rinses. 

Dior picked up the pitcher, shaking his head at the look on his son's face, "Tip your head back."

He had hardly gotten a bit of soap out when Eluréd began a rush of complaints, his small hands pressed firmly over his eyes, "Ada! It's getting in my eyes! And in my ears! And it's cold! You forgot the towel!" 

"I am sorry," Dior drew in a short breath, but continued to pour the rinse through his child's hair, making sure all of the soap ran into the tub. He had not helped with his sons' baths since…since before he had accompanied his father to Sarn Athrad, months and months ago. How could have he forgotten something as simple and routine as a towel over his child's eyes? 

"_Hîr nin!" There was a sudden exclamation as Glassell stepped through the door with a pitcher of fresh rinse, closely followed by an Elf with a steaming bucket of water. _

Eluréd tentatively removed one hand, "Not fair! Elurín will get a warm rinse!"

"Elurín is going back into the bath," Glassell sighed heavily, stirring the hot water into the tub. When she had agreed to watch over the sons of Dior Eluchil and his wife upon their arrival, she had not expected such difficult, unhappy little boys. Whatever had possessed the son of Lúthien and her Beren to entreat Ilúvatar for three children in as many years as could be counted on one's fingers, she did not know. __

"I want Nana!" Elurín crossed his arms firmly over his chest, making it impossible for the nursemaid to take his towel. It had been explained multiple times that Nana was very tired from the trip and still had to take care of Baby Elwing, so Glassell was going to help her by watching over Eluréd and himself. Elurín brought his feet up under the towel when the nursemaid made an attempt to haul him up and into the bath. She was not Nana! Glassell didn't know anything about playing pretend or snuggling little people into their beds or not using those awful, crummy silver barrettes in his hair. And she had long, scratchy fingernails! 

All in all, he had decided he didn't like her. Not at all. 

"Yes! I want Nana to give us our bath," Eluréd announced, then clamped his hands over his eyes again as his father poured more rinse over his head, "You forgot again!" He drew in a shuddering breath, hurt that his own Ada didn't remember about water getting into his eyes. The child sucked on his lower lip. Ada seemed to be forgetting lots of important things lately.  

Dior sighed heavily, looking around the bathing room. The tipped pitcher was still on the floor, with the unnerving bloodied puddle, and the hot water bucket was turned over next to the tub. Elurín sat on top of it, so wound up in his towel that Glassell could not get him into the bath. Damp towels were on the floor with a slimy cake of soap, and Eluréd was still kneeling next to the tub, starting to breathe is sniffling little gasps and not daring to take his hands off his face. Whatever had happened to the two little boys who used to splash in their bath and refuse to come out? He briefly considered sending the nursemaid out and finishing the task himself, but there were people already waiting to speak with him…people that would sorely doubt his priorities as king if he were to cancel a specially scheduled meeting so early in his reign. 

"Nana is feeding Elwing," Dior leaned over to tickle Elurín's feet, effectively getting the child to jump up long enough for him to grab the towel and use it to dry Eluréd's hair. "Get into the bath, Elurín," Dior rubbed his other son dry, getting up from the floor, "Finish up in here, and then to bed. Glassell, please find someone to clean this place up. And soon. And do not let them out of the room like that again." He hurriedly kissed first Eluréd on the forehead, then Elurín, "_Nin mell, nin gell." _

Eluréd rubbed his face in his brother's towel, peeking up to look at his departing father, "Aren't you going to read, Ada?"  

"She's hurting me!" Elurín screeched as Ada headed out the room. He glared at Glassell, who was working soap through his hair, then stuck out his lip, "She needs to cut her nails, Ada!"

"She will," Dior took a deep breath, stepping through the doorway. How long had they been in Menegroth? A week? Just barely… He cast a brief glance at Eluréd, "I am sorry, but there are people waiting for me, important people. Good night."  

As he crossed the bed chamber, wondering whether or not the damp spots on his outer-robe would dry on the walk to the council room, Dior heard the voices of his sons still calling after him. Their words mixed together in a jumble of complaints and cries, swirling about his head as he approached the hallway. One tentative little question nearly tugged him back, and he had to pause in order to shake its force away. 

"We're important people too, aren't we Ada?" 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Author's Notes: In this story, Eluréd and Elurín are portrayed as twins, even though there is some disagreement over whether or not they were. Since there is also disagreement over the year of their birth, for the purposes of this piece it shall stand at 495 of the First Age. This story begins in Fall 502. If you're a stickler for dates, I'd be happy to explain the timeline for this story. **

Any questions or comments are more than welcome. All reviews will be replied to at the end of the next chapter. 

If you'd like to see drawings of Eluréd, Elurín, and Elwing, send me an email and I'll get them to you. 

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)


	2. Chapter Two

**Between Twilight and Dawn**

**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. 

Author's notes and responses to reviews follow the chapter. ****

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter Two**

The young guard stood at his post, his grey gaze sweeping across the hall once more. His eyes could see much in the dim lighting: glints of gold and silver threads in the heavy tapestries on the walls, branches and leaves of the stone trees crossing the arched ceiling, and the pattern of small white and yellow flowers on the deep green runner that was spread out along the entire length of the floor to hush hurrying feet. 

He stood with both hands resting on the long spear in front of him, one thumb idly rubbing over a metal star that had been affixed to the weapon in blessing. Had the bit of silver blessed the one who had last possessed this spear? The guard let his eyes drop to the tiny emblem as he chewed on his inner lip. Most likely not. 

At the guard's left the door began to open quietly, and he straightened, surprised to have an interruption in his nightly watch. A very small person slipped out, pausing to look up and down the long hall, and then two bright eyes caught his own, widening. 

Elurín stepped backwards into his room, his arms tightening around the lumpy bundle he held. He had not expected anyone to be out there! There had never been anyone outside in the hallways at home, especially not anyone with a big spear. He hurried back through the playroom and into the bed chamber, kneeling down at the side of his brother's bed. Eluréd had curled up into a lump under the blankets, his face half-buried in the much wadded pillow. 

"I want Nana," Elurín moaned in a whisper, shaking his brother's shoulder. 

"What?" Eluréd lifted his head, blinking back sleep's hold. 

Elurín stood up, arms tight around the bundle again, "There's a big Elf by the door."

Eluréd didn't answer, but got out of bed and padded to the doorway, his brother at his heels. A big Elf by the door. Why was Elurín always so afraid of anyone he didn't know? The big Elf was probably one of Ada's friends. Sometimes Ada stayed up very late talking with the other grown-ups. If he checked outside, maybe Ada's friend would get Ada to put Elurín and himself back to bed. 

~*~

The guard in the hallway was somewhat relieved when the child came back, having worried that he'd frightened him. There was a long pause as the little boy came all the way out of the room to sit against the wall, his bare feet drawn up under a long cold-weather nightshirt. The guard raised an eyebrow, having no idea why the child simply sat there, offering no explanation for his presence. "Is something wrong?" he finally ventured, turning his full attention to the child. 

"Where's my Ada?" Eluréd took another quick glance at the big Elf. Elurín had not mentioned that he had a spear, or that he had been dressed as a soldier. 

"Sleeping, as you should be," The guard grinned, extending a hand for the child to take. 

Eluréd stayed on the floor, bunching the hem of his nightshirt in two hands and holding it tight around his toes. It was cold out here in the hall, and it gave him a reason to avoid looking at the guard. "Why are you here?"

"I am the guard for your room," the tall Elf responded matter-of-factly, then realized that the child had probably never been aware of his presence before, "I am only here at night though."

"Oh," Eluréd nodded slowly, beginning to understand. Once when he had had a bad dream Nana had taken his hand and brought him to his doorway, tracing her finger around the doorframe. _No bad dreams allowed past here_, she had said, _The_ dream guard is going to stand right here and will only let the good dreams inside_. Nana had told him that you couldn't see the dream guard, but maybe Menegroth was special, because he could see this guard. Further down the hall was another guard at Ada and Nana's door, and one in front of the adjacent nursery where Baby Elwing slept. Eluréd's gaze lingered on his sister's guard for a moment. What did little babies dream about? _

Eluréd twisted around to lean into the doorway where his brother was waiting. "It's all right," he whispered assuredly, "He's a dream guard."  

A dream guard? Elurín peered around the doorframe, scrutinizing the guard's appearance. Stars were for nighttime, and there were silver stars across his grey tabard. He wasn't so sure about the spear though…but maybe bad dreams needed some prodding in order to leave. At least the spear was not for prodding small people back into their beds. 

"Can you guard us if we're with our ada and nana?" Elurín shuffled into the hall, his worry dissipating when the tall guard relaxed and smiled. 

"I think so."

 ~*~~*~~*~

When two small bodies scrambled onto his bed, Dior was rather surprised. The boys had both been so exhausted lately that they had easily fallen asleep in their own beds. Their movements roused Elwing, who had been sleeping in her cradle at Nimloth's side. Soon the formerly peaceful bedchamber was filled with the baby's long, high-pitched screams, Nimloth's hushing whispers, and Eluréd and Elurín's concerned questions. 

"She's only hungry," Nimloth told them, her voice tired as she drew Elwing from the cradle. She settled back against the bed pillows, setting the baby to nurse, "Hungry, hungry baby." 

"She _is_ hungry!" Elurín exclaimed, snuggling close to his mother's arm and watching Elwing's hurried gulps, "Did I eat like that?"

"You were not in such a hurry," Nimloth responded evenly, glancing from her daughter to her son. 

Eluréd had by now settled himself close to Dior, and was leaning with his chin on a bed pillow, "What about me, Nana? Was I faster than Elwing?"

"No, you were the very slowest, _nin mell_!" Dior ruffled his son's hair, his laughter quieting as he remembered his wife's many trials in getting both twins to nurse at the same time. He glanced to Elurín, noting the yellow bundle the child had on his lap, "What have you got there?"

"Oh!" Elurín exclaimed, earning an annoyed look from his mother as Elwing hiccupped a surprised mouthful of milk.  He pushed away the folds of the small yellow blanket, depositing a heavy metal box on his father's lap, "Look, Ada. You forgot it." 

"Hmm," Dior picked up the music box in his hands. He had forgotten it _on purpose_. 

Eluréd stretched out a hand to finger the metal filigree of the cover, noting that the lacy shapes made birds and flowers. "What does it play, Ada? Can we hear it?"

"It plays a song," Dior told his sons, "A song that you know." A song that he knew, that had been sung to him in a voice sweeter than his own mother's. He had not seen his grandmother often, but she had supplied him with precious memories nonetheless. 

A few turns of the key and the metallic plinking began, a strong melody and soft notes behind. Dior set the box on the bedside table, letting the music flood his children's heads, and then singing the small bit that clung most fiercely to his present awareness. 

_Nin mell, nin gell_

_Amin__ meleth lle, tithen êl,_

_Nin__ tithen êl._

"_Nin__ mell, nin gell, nin tithen êl," Dior tapped each of his children on the forehead, the melody of the song still ringing somewhere in the back of his head. He sat against the headboard, not entirely sure why he felt so wide awake. Both his sons were peacefully asleep, probably for the first time in weeks. Eluréd was curled up against his own side, safe beneath one of his father's arms, and Elurín had decided to stretch out across the bed, his head snuggled against one of Nimloth's knees. Dior took in the sight, and then lifted his eyes to gaze at his wife beside him. Nimloth was silent but aware, her eyes on little Elwing still nursing contentedly. _

This was the way it was supposed to be. 

It was, in fact, a glimpse at what he had thought life _would be with his wife and three children. It was certainly not comfortable to share a bed with all of them, nor was it ideal, but all five of them were in the same place, and at the very least the children were content. _

Dior allowed himself a tired smile as he dragged a blanket over Eluréd. How had he and Nimloth ever ended up with three small children?  It had seemed so very _right at the time…his parents would not be long in the world, and he had wanted them to enjoy the furtherance of their line while they yet lived. The house at Lanthir Lamath was quiet, and though all of Beleriand might be ringing their hands, it seemed, indeed, a good place for children. _

And it had been. There had been many nights holding blanketed little ones on the airy balcony, letting the steady rumble of the falls put them at ease. Only a short walk away were small pools with grassy banks where they had spent several afternoons, and the house itself had seemed a home. Dior drew in a long breath, remembering the place where he had expected to spend centuries with Nimloth. The long staircase had had a different proverb carved into each step; and there were the window seats where they would sit with the boys on early mornings to watch deer lapping water from little blue ponds outside. The stars could be seen from every balcony and window---one never had to walk several flights of stairs to see them. Such happy times…

He had never anticipated his grandfather's death or his grandmother's departure. Halfway through Nimloth's pregnancy with Elwing his father had called him away to battle, and he had hardly made it home for his daughter's birth. After that they had made the long journey to Doriath, and here they were in Menegroth, their lives all turned upside-down. 

An annoyed squeak from Elwing interrupted Dior's thoughts, and he turned to see Nimloth shifting the protesting baby to her other side. 

"Somebody is not happy," he whispered, reaching over to tickle the toes of one of his daughter's tiny pink feet. This only aggravated her more, and she soon commenced to kicking against his palm. 

 "If your daughter could have her way, she would spend her every waking moment eating," Nimloth sighed, pushing a stray strand of silvery hair behind her ear with her free hand. She took her husband's hand in an effort to keep him from irritating Elwing further, "Now, are you going to get up and put the boys to bed?"

Dior laced his fingers through his wife's, "They might wake up again. Let's just keep them here." 

"All right," Nimloth drew in a deep breath, already anticipating a night of kicks and turns of the blankets. She sighed, tipping her head towards her husband with a small smile, "Pleasant dreams to you, whatever they might hold."

Dior let his gaze drop to their interlaced fingers, stroking Nimloth's thumb with his own. 

"They hold this," he let her follow his gaze as he looked over their children again, "They hold this."  

~*~~*~~*~

**Author's Notes**

Dior's song (or Melian's, actually) is incredibly simple:

My dear, my joy

I love you, little star,

My little star. 

If you must have a tune to go with this, try a slowed down version of the Beetles' "My Michelle". Not very Elvish, but that's what was running through my head at the time. *smirk*

~*~

There is an illustration for this chapter. If you would like to see it, please note it in your review or an email. (Note: Nimloth is nursing Elwing in the drawing, though there is not much to see.)

~*~

Responses to Reviews---A big Thank-You to all of you for taking the time to leave a review! It means a lot to me, especially since this is my first attempt at writing Silm-fic. 

*Dragon-of-the-North: First of all, thank-you, thank-you, **thank-you** for your encouragement, both in your review and via email. 

I'm glad you enjoyed the beginning of the chapter---it actually started as what it appears to be, and I changed it as I wrote.  I think it has fulfilled its purpose. *smirk*

As you probably noticed in the chapter, it was indeed Melian's music box. It very well could be the song of the nightingales---Eluréd was admiring the shapes of birds and flowers made by the filigree. 

As you pointed out with Eluréd's musings on hair washing, everything has been that way when writing this fic…everything is overshadowed by those melancholy feelings. *shrugs* But the happier times are still fun to write, and I think there will be several. *g*

On Glassell: No, you don't need to worry about the nursemaid being evil (though Elurín might tell you otherwise)…she is not in cahoots with Celegorm's servants or anything. As for a rescue, it will not be in the timeframe of this story…though my overworked brain has come up with a plausible fate for the twins. 

Thank-you again for the wonderful review! I enjoyed all of it!! *g* 

*Dragon Confused: Thank-you for your encouragement as well---I don't think the first chapter would have gotten up otherwise!

The boys are fighting against the population of Menegroth for their father's attention at this point, and (rotten) Baby Elwing has made Nana off-limits for the most part. That's tough for kids (at any age, I think!). They managed to get some attention in this chapter though. *g*

I hated hair-washing as a kid (and my mother kept my hair fairly long---so it took awhile to rinse out the soap)! My sister and I would tip our heads back during the rinses and howl like wolves…if we weren't crying. 

*Karri:  Thank-you for the review, as well as the note of encouragement!

*Elberethia: So I gotcha with my nasty opening, ah? It was supposed to be that way. *g*

Never fear, Elurín will track down his other slipper sooner or later (it was his, BTW). 

Thank you for the review, and for adding me to your favorites' list!

*Querida: There are not many stories about Dior and his family at all---and so it was a fairly untouched category for me to develop! I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter!

*Zimraphel: I'm glad you liked the first chapter…this has taken some developing, but all in all I'm enjoying myself. Thank-you for your review!

*Anyone else: Thank-you for reading---I hope your enjoying the story. Please take a moment to let me know what you think if you have a chance---I love knowing what people think of my work. 

Comments and questions are more than welcome!    ---Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Responses to reviews follow the chapter, and comments and questions, as always, are more than welcome. **

**--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)**

~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter Three**

The ceilings were so very, very high here. What had happened under them? What had all those stone creatures peeking out from the dark grey corners seen? Elurín put his fingers to the wall, staring up at the grey ceiling as he walked along. Even if he were on Ada's shoulders he would not be able to touch the stone branches that crisscrossed high above his head---nay, he would hardly be any closer to his goal. He could remember the house by the falls, and having jumping contests with Eluréd to see if one of them could graze the wooden ceilings with their fingers. Once Ada had seen them, and grinning, he had walked through the door, his hand held above his head, the palm pressed flat to the ceiling. Elurín stared wistfully at the pattern of stars that had been carved between the branches. Someday he would be tall enough to lay his hand to the ceiling.  

"Come along; you want to watch your ada, do you not?" 

Glassell continued down the hallway, a small hand in each of her own, feeling very proud of herself. She glanced at the two little people in her grip, wanting to grin at herself a bit. She had managed, alone and by herself, to get both of twins into the proper apparel for their father's first public appearance. They were perfect, right down to each carefully twisted lock of hair and each silk jacket tie. 

Eluréd sucked on his lower lip, wriggling his fingers within Glassell's grasp to check how tightly she held him. Awfully tight, just like the silly twists his hair had been forced into and the crisp front of his blue jacket. He twisted about in the garment a bit, attempting to get it to wrinkle about himself a little better, but to no avail. 

Glassell led the way to the balcony that Dior would be speaking from, happy to see that the benches had been recently cleaned off and pillowed. It would be hard for the two small children to sit still through out their father's speech and the greetings that would follow, but at least they would not have to sit on cold stone. "Look here," she smiled, "A good place for you to sit and watch your adar." She let go of the boys' hands, watching as they pushed themselves up onto the stone bench, "Soon your naneth will be here; will that not be nice? I am going to fetch a few books for you to look at." 

Elurín nodded slightly, picking up one of the grey pillows and hugging it to his chest. If he stretched his neck very high he could see through the guard rails of the balcony to where the people were gathered in the large courtyard below. There were so very, very many people.  

"You both look so nice," Nimloth's airy voice sounded as she stepped slowly onto the balcony, Elwing blanketed in her arms. She lowered herself onto the bench between her sons, planting a gentle kiss on each forehead, "Look how nicely Glassell did your hair." The dark locks of her sons' had been tamed into careful twists secured by tiny silver stars, something she never would have been able to successfully complete. Her little boys looked perfect, and yet she rather wished that she had had the time and energy to help them get ready herself. 

Eluréd gave his mother a small smile, settling onto the bench better. Elurín snuggled close to her arm, wishing she would put it around his shoulders. He glanced up to her face, following her gaze as she looked over the far wall and the high ceiling. Nimloth's eyes continued to travel around her surroundings, but her son's lingered on a long crack in the balcony railing. How had that gotten there? He wanted to get up and let his fingers feel it out, to find out if anything was wedged inside or not. Elurín drew in a long breath, fingering the beadwork on his mother's long sleeve. He was supposed to stay on the bench. 

Eluréd gripped the edge of the bench with his fingers, glancing about and trying to make sense of the loud murmur that came from the people below. Their voices began to quiet after awhile though, and Eluréd turned with a wide smile to see his Ada walking up onto the balcony and then approaching the guard rail. 

The people below saw Dior appear tall and stately in robes of deep blue and crimson, his long hair hanging as a dark fall down his back. Always before he had stood at his grandfather's elbow, hanging a little behind. When he took his wife's hand, speaking and standing before them all with confidence it was suddenly easier to see him as the king his line had destined him to be. 

Eluréd sat on the bench, little Elwing held tightly in his arms, hoping Nana would return soon to take the baby. How long would she and Ada stand over there? When was Glassell going to be back with the books? Elurín glanced at his brother, seeing that Eluréd looked almost nervous. His fingers gripped the bench pillow tighter when a cheer went up all around them all, and Eluréd held Elwing close, startled when his little sister let out a long scream of surprise. 

Nimloth glanced over her shoulder slightly, seeing her sons looking terribly worried, her daughter squirming out of the blankets. She had not expected to be standing with her husband during his address and afterwards. Her attention, however, was quickly diverted to the people now milling onto the balcony to speak with her, detaining her with questions of Lanthir Lamath, of her return, of the three little children waiting for her on the bench. 

Elurín was not quite sure why he felt so worried when the people started to come, but he shrank back onto the bench, the pillow clutched close to his chest. He sidled closer to Eluréd, seeing his brother's darting glances around the room. 

Eluréd pushed his nose against Elwing's silky hair, blinking back tears as his sister continued to wriggle and cry. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't Nana coming to take her? 

"Ah," there was a long, light sigh, and the sons of Dior found themselves peering up at a tall, lithe woman in glittering white, her golden hair shimmering around her head, "Here, little one." She put out her long white hands, gathering the fussing Elwing up and snuggling the blankets back around her. The woman glanced to the tall silver-haired Elf near her elbow, smiling and smoothing Elwing's fluffy curls, "Is she not wonderful, darling?" Her husband nodded only slightly, watching the children carefully. 

Eluréd stole a glance at his brother, feeling the pain of driven back tears under his eyes. "You…you can't have her," he managed carefully, "She's our sister." He made to get up, hoping that this lady would hand Elwing back. 

"Of course not!" the lady smiled, almost laughing, "I only desired to hold her for a moment." She lowered Elwing back into Eluréd's arms, traveling towards his parents as she spoke again to her husband, "We must tell your brother where they are. He is going to want to see them."

It was then that more people began to come, people who smiled at them and then spoke to each other, people who stood rather too close to them and patted their heads or tilted their chins up with long fingers or patted the sides of their faces. 

"Look at Dior's beautiful children, they are all still so small! Twins and a tiny one, they are. Have your eyes ever beheld three of the same family all so little at once? And look at their hair, dark as Luthien's it is. Such sweet little maiar they are." 

Dior caught sight of his children on the bench, looking noticeably frightened as person after person stopped to speak with them or simply look at them. He felt Nimloth reach for his hand as she began trying to push through the crowd, then noted the boys' nursemaid hurrying up the steps to the balcony before stopping to speak with a silver-haired Elf that he recognized. He sighed in relief, catching a calmed look from Nimloth. The two would be with the children in less than a minute, probably taking them back to their nurseries. 

Eluréd pushed himself against the wall behind the bench, still feeling all the people's touches on his face. Elurín pushed his chin into the pillow he held, effectively ending the tilts of his head. Elwing's blanket was coming loose again, and he noted this with a sideways glance. In a moment the pillow was exchanged for the large pinkish blanket, which he balled up in his own grip despite his brother's protests. 

"You can't take that; Baby needs it," Eluréd tried to hold Elwing with one hand while grabbing for the blanket, "Give it back." 

"Just wait. Here," Elurín spread out the blanket over their laps, then pulled his section over his head. Soon Eluréd and Elwing had joined him under cover, and he and his brother pulled their feet up onto the bench. 

Passersby saw only a large reddish lump on the bench, not letting their gazes linger long enough to worry over it. Underneath the blanket Eluréd and Elurín exchanged hushed whispers. Deprived of attention, Elwing decided to fuss again, kicking her feet and wiggling. 

"If she cries they'll come back," Elurín stared at his brother, starting to wonder whether or not Nana would forgive him for clamping a hand over his sister's mouth. He really had not liked all those people coming so close to him, people that he had never seen or met before. 

Eluréd bit his lip, trying to keep a grip on Elwing. "I know," he started pushing her towards his brother, "You hold her. She likes this." 

Elwing was soon propped up against Elurín, and started to cry louder, her small hands waving about. Eluréd pushed the baby's silk gown and soft slip up, drawing in a deep breath. 

Several heads turned towards the bench as an odd sound was heard from beneath the blanket, soon followed by the giggling of small children. 

Eluréd gave his brother a wide smile, his eyes shining in delight. Elwing had stopped fussing and was now smiling at them both. Elurín shifted the happy baby onto a few pillows, taking his own turn at blowing on his sister's tummy. Their laughter erupted again as Elwing's little face scrunched up in pleasure. 

Nimloth glanced to her husband, unsurprised by the blank look on Dior's face as he stared at the blanket-covered bench against the far wall. She was not entirely sure what to think of this turn of events, and it was obvious that her husband had no idea what to do. A crowd of people still milled between them and their blanketed children, and already several people were smiling at them or whispering to each other. Glassell stood against the wall laughing behind the books she had been carrying, and the Elf she had been speaking to was traveling towards the noisy bench. 

"Elwing likes tummy-blowing," Dior and Nimloth could hear one of their sons singing, "Yes, she does; yes, she does." 

"Oh, she does, does she?" an inquisitive voice spoke to the lumpy blanket, and underneath Eluréd felt a soft pat on his head. Next to him Elurín stopped singing, and light quickly re-entered their tiny world as someone lifted the blanket away. 

"Yes, she does," Eluréd managed, staring at the Elf who had suddenly appeared. His silver hair was drawn back from his face with a clip of jade and beryl that matched the layered green clothing he wore, and his eyes held an amused glint. 

"Well, then she is just like my little girl," the adult managed to lift Elwing off of the bench, cradling her in an arm. The baby squirmed around, suddenly able to see much more from her new vantage point. The Elf tapped her nose, attempting to get her to look at him, "Just like her, are you not? I think we shall have lots of fun together."

Eluréd slid off the bench, quickly standing next to the big Elf and holding his small hands up for Elwing, "I want her back." Perhaps the lady did not want to keep his baby sister, but this person seemed to like her a little too much. 

"She is all right with me," the big Elf reached over to pat the little boy's head, and then smiled at the other child, who was scrunched up against the wall on the bench, Elwing's blanket clutched in one hand. They certainly did not seem glad to see him, though perhaps that could be expected. He glanced between both the twins, trying to remember what he had been told about them. Which boy was which? 

"No," Elurín managed from the bench, "You're a stranger."

A rather pained look passed over the Elf's face, and he quickly smiled against it, sitting down on the bench. Of all the people here, they should have at least known him. Hadn't their parents, or their mother at least, mentioned that he was coming to meet them? "Did not anyone point me out to you both?" he glanced towards Dior and Nimloth, and then at his brother and sister-in-law before returning his gaze to the children, "I am your grandfather, Galathil." 

**Author's Notes**

Galathil, by canon, is both Nimloth's father and Celeborn's brother. Tolkien never mentioned very much about him, so it is possible that he was in Doriath during Dior's reign. As for Celeborn and Galadriel being there—I am not sure if they were or not. If there is canon that contradicts this, _please point it out to me. _

**Responses to Reviewers**

Thank you all for your comments and notes—I enjoy them very much, and love to hear about what you like or what you thought of certain parts of a chapter or the story in general. 

***Findis:** I am glad that you are enjoying the happier times the family is currently sharing. It is definitely not anyone's ideal situation, but certainly better than what eventually happens. 

***Dragon-of-the-north:** I am glad that you enjoyed the scene between the boys and their guard—I do enjoy writing the children's views and ideas in situations like this. Writing the twins has been a lot of fun for me because I actually get to write interaction between two children who know each other well, as well as getting to write about their interactions with their younger sister. 

I did not plan any symbolism with Elwing being the most eager to eat—I wanted her to come on as a very strong character personality-wise, since female canon characters usually get looked over. She is just a baby now, but definitely a baby who knows what she wants. I'm glad that you like her. 

As for Dior…I've always wondered exactly how he would feel about becoming king of Doriath. It must have been very unexpected,  and he has a young family, and yet Tolkien mentions in the Silm. that he was well-received by the Elves of Doriath and (from what I can gather) that he took quite a lot of initiative to restore Menegroth, which was not such a pretty place when he arrived. 

Thank you for all of your wonderful comments—they are all very encouraging, and it is so much fun to read over them. 

***Dragon Confused:** Yes! I did update, and now, after about two months, I have finally updated again! 

I'm glad that you liked the part with the guard—I wondered how the boys' might respond to having a guard after spending all of their lives at Lanthir Lamath. I'm happy too, that you liked Dior and little Elwing too. *g*

***Elberethia:** So Elurín is your favorite, hmm? I think when he is just around his family, he is definitely the less serious of the twins. 

Can you have the dream guard…? Hmm…he has still got to guard the boys for a few years, but perhaps after that… *Dream Guard waves in Elberethia's direction*  

And do I think Eluréd and Elurín survive…? I like to think that they do. 

***Nerdanel:** I am glad that you enjoyed the descriptions, and am very happy that I didn't bore you. *g*  I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well. 

***Querida:** I'm very glad that you enjoyed the second chapter. This third one was a little different, but I hope that it was likable as well. *g* The guard is not Celeborn, but you probably caught his appearance in this chapter. 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Galathil walked towards the small dining hall where he normally took his meals, his speed somewhat hindered by the two children walking alongside him. Upon being assured by their mother that he was indeed a good person, particularly a person who was going to find them something to eat, the boys had slipped their little hands into his large ones. The child on his right gripped three of his fingers in a warm, fierce little hand as though he might never let go, his small body repeatedly brushing against his grandfather's leg. The boy on the left was content to wander along, his tiny fingers occasionally dropping away in order to rub at his nose or to pull at a strand of dark hair.

"Where does that go?" the boy on his right – the clingy one - pointed towards a wide passageway. Though none of the many lamps on the walls were lit, Galathil could still make out the heavy tapestries on the walls and a statue further down the hall that had been tipped over, but never righted.

"Nowhere important," Galathil responded vaguely, continuing towards the dining hall, "Look, here we are."

* * *

Eluréd pushed himself up onto the cushion already placed on one of the large wooden chairs, looking down at the china plate in front of him. Someone had painted a green city of trees and a little bridge over a brook on it, and if he looked hard enough, he could see a deer peeping out from behind one of the trees, and birds sailing in front of a cloud.

"There you are," someone spooned a helping of dressing onto the child's plate, and Eluréd jerked back in surprise, the little green landscape now obscured with bits of bread and green onion.

Elurín gazed around the room, noting the two large sideboards that housed more painted china behind their glass-plated cupboard doors and the painted mural that covered one wall. It looked like a scene from his window at home: groves of leafy trees, lush grass, a bright blue pond where a small group of deer were lapping water. One of the deer was looking up, startled, ears standing out at the sides of its head and its eyes wide.

"Look!" Eluréd suddenly exclaimed, lifting up his spoon, "It says 'Elu'!"

"It does?" Elurín scrambled to kneel on his chair, small bony knees digging into the green cushion as he leaned over to take the spoon from his brother.

"It's mine!" Eluréd grasped the spoon protectively, holding it out just far enough for his twin to see the tiny runes and twining flowers on the handle. He sat up straighter in his chair, staring at his grandfather, "May I have this one? Please? It has my name on it."

Elurín grabbed for the spoon again, "It's my name too. I want to see it."

"No! You won't give it back. Whenever you take things you never give them back," Eluréd pulled the spoon as far out of his brother's reach as possible.

"I just want to see it!" Elurín grated, moving to get out of his chair.

"Sit down _now_," Galathil's voice suddenly interrupted them, sounding much more disapproving – an almost guilt-inspiring disapproval - than angry, "All of the silverware in this set bears the mark of Elu Thingol, your great-grandfather. You need not argue over it." He watched as the boys planted themselves in their chairs, startled at the interruption of their argument, then picked up his own fork, "So, you both like to be called 'Elu' then?" The name felt odd on his tongue, as though he should not be saying it here, especially in reference to these two small children.

"No," the child who had wanted the spoon so badly wrinkled his nose, "Eluréd is called Eluréd all of the time, and sometimes I am called Rín." He grabbed for his own spoon, checking to be sure that the little runes decorated it as well.

"I call him Rín," the other boy – Eluréd – put in. He was tentatively pushing his food towards the edges of the plate, apparently trying to see the marred picture underneath.

"Ah," Galathil nodded, spearing the carrots on his plate, "And what sorts of things do you like? What are your favorite things?"

Elurín glanced up at his grandfather excitedly, eager to talk about himself, "Oh! My favorite animal is a bear, and my favorite color is yellow, and my favorite food is honey on toast…"

"I don't have a favorite animal," Eluréd managed, still busy scraping food off of the green painted picture on his plate.

"…and I like to play outside, and go swimming…" Elurín continued, absently picking up small bits of meat from his plate and popping them into his mouth.

"I can keep my head under the water a whole minute…and I like blue," Eluréd gave up on trying to see the picture, instead peering up to see his grandfather smiling at him a little. It was a rather nice smile, so he smiled back.

"…and color, play…" Elurín trailed off, obviously in thought, "And other things, but I don't remember."

* * *

Galathil settled down into a chair in the boys' nursery, watching the two play some sort of game while sprawled out on the rug before the hearth. They had wriggled out of the jackets they'd worn while watching their father, and had helped each other finger out the tight twists in their hair. They lay flopped out on the rug now, sleepy after taking a meal, making little houses out of blocks of varying size and shape. They were peculiar children, Galathil decided – Eluréd, who had seemed so bold at Dior's appearance, had gone quiet later on, while Elurín had abandoned all cares once removed from the crowds.

"These blocks are better than the ones at home," Elurín commented, rolling onto his stomach and running his finger over the intricate designs carved into the wood. Galathil had marked the child by his bare feet – both small blue and white stockings were balled up with the discarded silk jacket, while Eluréd's were still on his feet.

"Let's build our house," Eluréd suggested, beginning the foundation.

"Menegroth might be a bit complicated," Galathil smiled down at the child, "Do you plan to construct the entire palace, or just your family's suites?"

"I'm not building this place," Eluréd looked up at his grandfather, his small forehead wrinkling in confusion, "I'm building my house, at home."

_"Dior is having a house built for us, Adar.__ He says that it stands next to a waterfall – Lanthir Lamath – and there is to be a balcony where we can feel the spray. It sounds so wonderful, does it not?"_

_"Lanthir Lamath? Nimloth, it is so far from here. Why do you not stay here? Menegroth is vast, and Dior is its heir."_

_"I want to live in a real house, all my own. Dior says there are to be windows, Adar, where we may look out and see deer at the ponds and the stars in the night sky. My children are going to have windows, Adar." _

_"You have got fountains and courtyards here, Nimloth! Trees with leaves of gold and silver, a pool in the west court where children can dabble their toes even in the winter. You played there as a child yourself."_

_"I want my children to have windows."_

"Can you tell us a story?" one of the boys pulled Galathil out of the memory, both little hands on one of his knees. The child's bare feet bounced on the woven rug, the toes of one small foot digging under a wrinkle.

"You like stories?" Galathil raised an eyebrow, nearly hauling the child onto his lap but deciding to refrain. He had startled them enough times for today, and could not be certain if they were used to being twirled and bounced and jostled – Dior for certain had always been rather skittish as a child, too used to the quiet of Tol Galen.

"We love stories," Elurín responded emphatically, resting both elbows on his grandfather's knees while Eluréd nodded in firm agreement from the floor, "Our Daerada Beren and Daernana Lúthien have got the best, best stories, and they tell them when we go and visit. My favorite ones are with the dog – his name is Huan! He belonged to an elf named…" the child turned to his twin, "What was the elf's name?"

"Celegorm," Eluréd supplied.

"A mean elf named Celegorm," Elurín babbled on, "And he was going to catch my poor Daernana Lúthien and marry her! And I think the dog was supposed to catch her, but he didn't because he liked her, because he was a really good dog and could even talk sometimes. And the mean elf…Celegorm…he was _really_ mad when his dog ran away."

"Ah," Galathil nodded, chewing the inside of his lip, "I do not believe I have any stories about hounds."

"But what about dogs?" Elurín stared up at him, grey eyes wide and waiting.

Galathil choked back an amused chuckle, sighing instead, "None about dogs either, I am afraid. Actually, I should be leaving now, as I have already missed part of your father's reception. No one will be very happy with me if I come late to his banquet."

As he rose from his chair he noticed one of the boys – Eluréd, yes, Eluréd – scramble for one of the discarded blue jackets, hurrying to shove his arms into the sleeves, "Wait for me!"

"Yes, wait! I want to go!" Elurín was leaning on his knees, forcing him to support the child with a hand or stumble back into his chair, "We won't take very long, and you can tell us a story on the way there."

"It is only for adults, I believe," Galathil managed to get closer to the doorway when Elurín rushed away to pull on his stockings, "I am sure you will have a much, much better time here with your nurse." He glanced pointedly at Glassell, who had taken the relatively quiet break to organize the twins' hastily unpacked clothing in the tall wardrobe in their bedroom. To his disappointment, neither of the boys followed his gaze, though the nurse hurried over.

"Oh, yes," Glassell managed to pick up both sets of tiny blue court slippers before either of the twins could grab for them, tucking the light shoes under an arm as she attempted to help Eluréd back out of his jacket, which he'd pulled on rather crookedly, "You can change into nice, comfortable clothes, and then we can have some warm tea and a cookie, and I will tell you both some stories, and you can tell me some…"

"I want to go!" Elurín tried to pull at the slippers under Glassell's arm while trying to inch towards his grandfather at the same time, "I want to go see my ada!"

"Wait, wait," Eluréd struggled with the nurse to get the jacket off, and then against her to put it on correctly instead of leaving it off. He caught his grandfather stepping closer to the door that led out into the hall, straining his voice, "Wait for me!"

"Neither of you are going," Galathil stepped back into the play area, his voice firm but reasonable. He knew that the children had seen precious little of their parents recently, and he would have liked to spend more time getting to know his own grandchildren. However, he also knew that the his grandsons were already tired from a stressful day, that they would not appreciate more pats and gushing over their presence at a banquet that might very well last far into the night. He looked first at one boy, and then the other, "Today has been very busy for you already, and there will be more people like the ones this morning. You will have a nice evening here with your nurse instead, and I am sure your father will come to say goodnight when the banquet is over. Be good."

Glassell sat on the floor with the twins, watching as Galathil left, then letting out a sigh of relief when neither boy bolted after him. She rose, moving into the bedroom to put both pairs of court shoes on a shelf in the wardrobe, glancing over her shoulder, "Why don't you each pick out a storybook now? Elurín, I think there is one about a fox family."

"I don't want you to read me a story, I want my ada to!" Elurín rose from where he had slumped onto the rug, storming past Glassell and purposefully whacking at her skirt with a book he had randomly pulled from the shelf. He sat down on his bed, angrily dragging the top sheet out from under the smoothed covers so that he could pull it over his head. He had seen Glassell moving towards him, and yelled in her direction, "I don't like you! Go away!"

Eluréd had pulled a few other picture books from the shelf before his brother stalked off, and now he gave the nursemaid a wide-eyed look before scrambling to his feet to join Elurín. Glassell watched as one bump under the sheet became two, then with a sigh sat down on Eluréd's bed.

She was still there a few minutes later when one of the boys pushed aside his part of the sheet, trying to hold out a cumbersome book for her, "I can't read this word."

"Let me see," Glassell took the book, pulling it onto her lap as the child slid out from under the tangle of bed linen, leaning against the side of the bed to look down at the page. The other boy pushed his way through the sheet, peering out as Glassell raised her eyebrows. "There are a lot of big words in this story. Perhaps you could read the little words, and I could read the bigger ones."

It both did and did not surprise her when both children joined her on the bed, Elurín wrapping his arms around a yellow blanket and two stuffed animals while Eluréd halfheartedly tried to sound out another word. He absently began fingering the edging on his pillowcase, his eyes resting more often on the illustration than the words next to it, "Maybe you could just read them all."

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I've seen the terms _Daernana/Daernaneth_ (_Grandma/Grandmother_) and _Daerada/Daeradar_(_Grandpa/Grandfather_) used by a few other fanfiction authors – I am not sure who arranged the titles originally, so if you have and would like credit, please let me know.

The full account of Elurín's tale of Huan can be found in Chapter 19, _Of Beren and Lúthien_, in the Silmarillion.

* * *

Responses to Reviews

**Querida:** Hardly written OCs are such fun to write, since you get to decide on their personalities without ruining anyone else's stories – so Galathil naturally had to be included!

**Itarille:** I'm glad you're enjoying this little glimpse at Eluréd and Elurín – I enjoy writing children, and these two and their sister gave me a chance to try my hand at Silmfic.

**Dragon-of-the-North:** I am glad you are enjoying the somewhat eerie hints every here and there – I think in many ways Doriath probably felt much less safe and very vulnerable after Thingol's death and Melian's departure.

And yes – I think Dior and Nimloth are rather distant parents, though perhaps not intentionally. Personally, I imagine them both fairly young and inexperienced with trying to balance children, marriage, and now an entire kingdom all at once.

Last – poor Glassell. She knows the children (and she herself!) need structure, but I think she's getting stretched a bit thin now. She needs a large piece of cake, perhaps. Thank you for the great review, mellon nin!


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